The Abbey
by SinShameGuilt
Summary: When all hope is lost, The Abbey gave them peace. Edward/Bella, AU. A little Christmas gift.


**The Sandbox Presents: Anything Goes Under the Mistletoe**

**Author: SinandShame/SinShameGuilt**

**Story Title: The Abbey**

**Rating: T**

**Vamp or Human: Vamp/AU**

**Number of Words (not including A/N or header/footer): 3371**

**Disclaimer: This is a complete work of fiction. The characters are based upon those created by Stephanie Meyer in her Twilight Series. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Please visit the Anything Goes Under The Mistletoe C2 to find more contest entries --**

http://www(.)fanfiction(.)net/community/The_Sandbox_Presents_Anything_Goes_Under_the_Mistletoe/76627/

Thank you to the lovely Songirl for helping this be less crazy. She tried to make sense of this, she really did. The remaining crazy is all me, I promise. She never ceases to amaze me.

****

The Abbey

ab⋅bey

/ˈæbi/ [ab-ee]

–noun, plural -beys.  
1. a monastery under the supervision of an abbot or a convent under the supervision of an abbess  
2. the group of buildings comprising such a monastery or convent.  
3. the church of an abbey.  
**Origin: **  
1200–50; ME abbey(e) OF abeie LL abbātia abbacy

***

The sound was causing me physical pain. Well, it would if I could physical pain. The siren of her despair sliced through my frozen exterior like an axe. It wasn't her voice though, it was her thoughts. It was the sorrow behind them. She'd given up completely; given up wishing for it; given up looking for it. She'd abandoned hope. Her misery crawled through me like a snake burrowing down for the winter. I could feel the pain flowing off of her. It settled into my chest, putting down roots. Perhaps would have affected me so intensely if it hadn't been such a clear reflection of my own anguish.

I'd long ago resigned myself to a life without hope and faith. It was easy to do when the first word I heard, or that I remembered hearing, was _vampire_. It struck me odd at the time but it wasn't long before I came to loathe the word. It was my fate. I hated myself. I hated what I had become. I hated the things I had to do to survive. I hated that I wasn't strong enough to do something to end it all.

And so it was when I was feeding on an aged Stag that I found myself in the forest, listening to her mind, screaming for help while begging for mercy at the same time. It had been years since I heard a mind that rivaled the torture in my own. I shivered, dropping the Stag and running in the direction of the desperate thoughts.

I found her lying there. Curled up in a ball like a frightened kitten. She wasn't unconscious, but she wasn't really conscious either. She was in some form of catatonic state. To everyone else she was silent and certainly no one else would have found her; only I could hear her silent pleas that curled in whisps like the smoke of incense.

There was no rhyme nor reason to her thoughts. She was simply destroyed. Perhaps some evil being pillaged her heart and left her like this. I cringed thinking that something like me had caused this. Then I sorted deeper into her mind and found that it wasn't another who did this, it was her own self doubt and insecurity. She felt like she didn't belong; like she didn't deserve to find happiness or even contentment. She couldn't have been more wrong.

I peered through her veil of anguish and looked into her soul. It was pure and honest. None of the seven deadly sins had even lain next to this angel. She was frail yet alluring. Soft brown hair that fell in waves around her; luminescent skin that seemed to glow in the subtle moonlight of the forest. Her eyes wouldn't open but I would wager they were the windows to a soul that could challenge the saints to a battle of grace.

As I grew closer, I could see the gentle rise and fall of her chest. The gentle brush of breath as it left her body moved toward me on the breeze. I had to pause and gather my will. While her thoughts were familiar, her blood was like my Lorelei, drawing me to my doom. Whatever chance I had of avoiding damnation would surely be destroyed by tainting this earthly deity. I would not do that. As inherently evil as my existence was, I still had choices. It was those choices that kept the flicker of hope going deep, deep inside my lifeless body.

Steeling myself against her sensuous bouquet, I moved closer and searched her thoughts for a sense of home, a sense of belonging. I found none. She was emotionally homeless. _Like me_. I couldn't leave her there. In her state of mind, she would surely waste away or worse, be mauled or mutilated. That couldn't happen. She didn't react when I gathered her gently to my chest. Her body didn't acknowledge my presence, nor did her mind. She was truly lost. I would take her to the one place I thought she would be safe. The place that made me feel like less of a demon. The Abbey.

I went to the Abbey often, mostly to be reminded that I was once human. That I was once worthy of going to Heaven. I knew the reality though. I would not be going to Heaven. I would not be going anywhere. This was my purgatory and it was eternal.

The church was dark, save for a few prayer votives glowing in the back. Instead of delivering her immediately to the Abbess, I sat in the last pew, holding her to my chest, softly rocking her. It was the one memory I had from _before_. I vaguely recalled my human mother holding me to her bosom, soothing me in her rocking chair. I let the memory saturate me and hopefully overflow into her. Never had I sensed someone so despondent yet completely without sin. She felt no regret, only loss and emptiness. My instinct to comfort, long buried, rose to the surface. If nothing else, I could give her a moment of peace and help quell the grim sense of separateness drifting through her veins.

As I held her gently, I took in my surroundings, committing the scene to memory for eternity. There were so few of these moments in my life, those where my soul felt less black. I wanted to preserve them. I noticed the shriveling mistletoe lining the stone arch above the prayer altar. I smiled sadly, thinking it ironic that it was mistletoe that remained from the recent Christmas services. It was a dichotomy; in some ways like this lovely angel and myself. It is poison to most, yet adored. It is sometimes called the vampire plant because of its ability to thrive under the bark of a tree and suck the life from it in desperate times. It is also thought that the cross upon which Christ died was made of mistletoe wood and because of that, the plant species morphed into the modern parasitic plant. Despite it's dark past, it managed a place of honor, or reverence, and of happiness. Ironic, indeed.

We sat there for a time until I suddenly felt her shiver. It seems my frigid touch was rousing her and so it was time to part ways. Winding my way through the stone corridors of the Abbey, I found the Abbess' quarters. I couldn't let her see me. She already had her suspicions of me. They all did. I'd been haunting this place for decades. They saw me come for hours at a time, lighting prayer candles and sitting at the altar. Their thoughts were varied, most of their theories more exotic and far-fetched than even the reality. They let me be, however. I wondered sometimes if it was their charitable nature, their sense of self-preservation or my generous donations to the offering box that kept them at bay. Whatever the case, I was grateful to them for a place that made me feel less alone.

I placed the angel at the door and before I could stop myself, let my lips reverently whisper across her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open and I could swear I saw hope as I quickly knocked on the door then turned and fled at full speed.

***

There was a draw to this place now. It was like a psychological tether. I kept my home close by and wandered farther only when necessary. It gave me the opportunity to see her. _Bella_. Her name was Bella. Regardless of how near or far I was, she was never out of my thoughts. She blossomed at the Abbey. The sisters took her in and under their tutelage, she flourished. She was a beautiful soul. And a beautiful woman. So much so that the confessional became a friend to me, as did my Rosary.

Bella taught classes, arranged mission trips, cooked and read voraciously. Watching over her gave me purpose. It made my sad existence less so. At times, I would allow myself the luxury of daydreaming. Fantasies that she knew me; that we could sit for hours and talk about the books she loved so much. That we could drink tea by the hearth and just be together. I wish I could say that those were the only fantasies I had of Bella. But again, the Rosary reminded me of the impropriety of the _other _ones. But it was done and

I accepted that I wasn't meant for physical love. Yet another curse in my meager existence.

Like Bella, I took the opportunity to immerse myself in theology. It was fascinating. Part mysticism, part science, part psychology and part warfare. It was no wonder that religion was the only thing left in the world worth fighting over. And it seemed it would always be. It seemed that humans either lived on complete faith, or no faith at all. It seemed oxymoronic that an outward manifestation of spirituality fueled such hatred and aggression. I failed to understand humans more than I understood myself.

Bella lived a long and prosperous life. She was content. I watched her smile every day. There were times I would catch her eye and she would wonder. Her thoughts tended to evaporate when they turned to me. It was as if she could hide them.

If possible, Bella became more beautiful as she aged. Instead of showing her age, she became more refined, more delicate; the fine lines of her joy radiated outward, encompassing all who were fortunate to be near her. Her continuous smile and her warm eyes embraced everyone equally. Her graceful hands showed no sign of her years. Her glowing skin showed her purity; never touched by human hands. It was as if God kept it smooth, fragile as the onion skin hymnals and parchment prayerbooks she cradled instead of children.

And so it was, I watched over her, worshiping her from afar, until one evening she peacefully left this world. She slipped quietly into the ether with a small smile playing on her lips.

***

There was an emptiness that followed her death. A void in my life. I worked to fill it as best I could, spending even more time at the Abbey. It seemed as though the sisters had long given up wondering about me. To them, I just _was_. So now I worked to help them however I could, offering a hand to repair things or clean up when needed. They were always polite and always grateful. I looked upon it as a chance to give back to them something for the many years they allowed me to be near Bella without suspicion.

One evening I sat at the altar after lighting several prayer candles. I was praying for Bella. I always prayed for her soul and for her happiness, where ever she might be. I must have been lost in my own thoughts deeper than usual when the newly appointed Abbess approached me.

"Could I be of service in any way, my son?"

It was surprising at first. The sisters rarely, if ever, approached me. Her blood tempted me at first, but it left quickly. I felt safe here. I felt as though when I was inside the Abbey, the monster waited outside.

"No, thank you Sister," I said smiley faintly. "I was just praying for a friend."

Her thoughts were guarded, almost non-existent. Like Bella's when she would start to think upon me.

"She knew who you were," she softly, leaning toward me just a little.

I'm certain the shock registered on my face. "I beg your pardon?"

"She knew you were the one that saved her."

I turned away from her benevolent eyes, mumbling. "I certainly didn't save her, you did."

"No, my son. You saved her." She leaned back into the pew and clasped her hands in front of her. "She spoke of it often. She recalled nothing of that night, save for being in your arms. It was the only memory she had of a life before the Abbey. She said that it felt like someone had drained the despair from her body and replaced it with hope. She truly believed it was you who did that for her."

"If she only knew," I whispered.

"She knew. We all know. Why do you think we've stopped questioning your presence?"

I buried my face in my hands in shame. I wasn't worthy of this place now. I never was. I had convinced myself I belonged here, that I deserved to be here. I was deluding myself. And everyone around me knew the evil that lurked inside their walls. They let the demon in without question.

"Why?" I begged. "Why didn't you banish me? Chase me away like the devil that I am."

She sighed and slowly reached her hand over, placing it atop my stone fingers. "Because, my son, you are not the devil. We are judged in this world, not by _what_ we are, but by what we do, how we think and how we treat others. In that respect, you are, at the very least, an equal within these walls."

I watched as she slipped from the seat, kneeling, bowing her head and crossing herself. Some long buried instinct made me offer her my hand to help her stand. She took it and smiled widely at me. "See?" She brought her other hand to wrap over mind, warming my skin. "May God be with you, my son."

***

The Abbey was full. Midnight Mass on Christmas was a rare time. The "holiday" Catholics came out and bid their time. It was a spectacle on some level, sublimely serene on another. The organ blanketed the walls in a sweet echo of song, everyone singing to show their faith and reverence. It was almost complete darkness. The liturgical lights were lit on the sides of the Abbey and faint candle like flickers moved gracefully behind the stained glass that enveloped the main hall, sending prisms of color cascading over the congregation.

At the end of the service, when most everyone had retreated, I took my place at the prayer alter. It was my solace these days. My attempt to connect with _her_. My attempt to maintain a minutiae of good despite my lot in this world. Again, the Abbess approached me. She had talked to me several times since Bella's death. She would always speak of possibilities. She spoke of hope and faith and love. I indulged her, of course, but she could not convince me those things were possible _for me_. This night, however, she just sat next to me, not speaking for the longest time. Finally, she whispered softly, almost to herself.

"We celebrate the birth as much as we celebrate the life and the death." With that, she rose and placed her hand on my shoulder. "Merry Christmas, Edward."

I knelt at the altar for hours. Remembering Bella's selflessness and her embrace of the peace she had found in giving herself over to something greater. I envied her ability to ignore her beginnings, whatever they were, and focus on the potential. My thoughts swirled. I became lost in the flicker of candles; emptying myself of the selfish thoughts of desire, envy, and need, offering them up to God. I focused on the stillness, my granite form as rivaling the stone saints keeping watch around me, reflecting the quiet beauty of the space. I finally closed my eyes, thankful for the tranquility that arrived to rest over me. That would be the final memory of my time on earth.

It has been said that there is a white light when you die; a tunnel, guiding you to your final resting place. I wasn't sure I would ever experience death. There was always a chance, I suppose, but I was told that if it came at all, my end would undoubtedly be violent. Mercifully, this was not the case.

***

I smelled the air before I opened my eyes. It was fresh and clean. I felt the sun on my chest, warming me. The sky was bright as I slowly opened my eyes and let them adjust. I was on a hilltop, lying atop thick, soft grass. My chest was bare as were my feet, linen pants my only clothing. Was I dead? Was I in hell? There didn't seem to be a river Styx, nor gates of Hell, nearby. But there were certainly no angels singing, no hellfire and no brimstone, but no pearly gates either. It seems I may have traded one purgatory for another.

"Edward?" I heard a soft voice behind me. I spun around and there she was, as glorious as ever. It was a young Bella, so beautiful and innocent looking. Her simple white sundress made her look like a school girl.

"Bella?" I said, flustered. "What are you doing here?"

"I've been waiting for you."

She smiled and looked at me demurely, but her tone was unaffected.

I looked around hoping to gather my bearings. "What happened?"

She looked down and shrugged her shoulders. "I'm not sure, but I think that you finished your work. Much like I had finished mine."

"What do you mean, _finished my work?_" I was baffled. I couldn't be dreaming but this was an impossible reality.

"We all have a job to do in our physical lives, Edward. Once our work is done, we are allowed to move on."

"But that's not possible for me." I argued. "Evil doesn't get this chance."

"You aren't evil, Edward. You never were." She moved toward me and brushed her hand over mine as a playful smile graced her lips. "But I will say, I suspect the Abbess put in a good word for you. I always thought she had a crush on you."

I blinked again, expecting her to disappear. She was still in front of me. Still beautiful. "Where are we?"

"I'm not really sure," she said as she moved closer. "But it's peaceful here. And we want for nothing." By this time she leaning into me. I could smell the florals around her. I could smell the Spring air with the Jasmine and Honeysuckle. But I couldn't smell her _blood._

I looked down at my body. It looked the same as it did as a vampire, but when I placed my palm on my own chest, I felt my heart beat. I took a chance, breathing deep, and felt my lungs fill with air. If this were a dream, it was the cruelest of punishments.

"I tentatively reached out to her, gently brushing my knuckles along her cheek. "You're young again."

"Yes," she whispered. "I am. It seems as though when you come to this place, you go back to the time in your life when you were happiest. Almost like you can start over again."

I heard the hope in her voice and didn't want to overshadow it with my fears. But I had to know. "How long can we stay here?"

She reached out to me. Placing her palm against my chest and leaning in closer. "Those I've talked to have been here for as long as they can remember." I closed my eyes and felt her cheek against my shoulder. "Perhaps this our final resting place."

I banished my insecurities and wrapped my arms around her tightly. I closed my eyes and felt her grace seep into me. It filled my soul and gave me hope, such that I no longer questioned my worth.  
As if she could read my mind, in our embrace, I heard her whisper "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope." (Romans 15:13)

The End.

Merry Christmas everyone.

I promise we'll soon be back to our regularly scheduled smut.


End file.
